NATE
Who could ask to be unbroken
or be brave again?
or be brave again?
Or honey hope even on this side
of the grave again?
of the grave again?
”Well I’ll distract you through it. Keep you talking, right?” Nate smiled, and shifted his grip on Sams hand, his fingers sliding down to grip around the other mans wrist instead of holding onto his hand. ”How did you get the bed to make that noise just now?” The first question that had come to mind had been far more tasteless, something about the world outside, but Nate kept the subject far away from his tongue, at least for now.
With his eyes mostly still on Sam, Nate reaches over and grabbed the knife, the blade smoking slightly, but not red hot. ”Look at me.” Nate said the words like an order, waiting for green eyes to meet his. The moment their eyes locked, his hand dipped, pressing the hot metal against the gory wound. The smell wasn’t what he had expected, and he tried to not wrinkle his nose.
After a second, though it had to feel like an eternity to the other man, Nate withdrew the blade, holding firm to Sams arm and lifting it slightly, so he could look at the wound. With a sympathetic wince, Nate squeezed Sams arm. ”One more. Look at me.” Again, he waited for their eyes to meet, and pressed the knife against Sams skin. Somehow, it seemed worse the second time. Nate didn’t look this time, just set the knife to the side and pressed a damp piece of gauze against Sams hand, the slightest relief he had.
With his eyes mostly still on Sam, Nate reaches over and grabbed the knife, the blade smoking slightly, but not red hot. ”Look at me.” Nate said the words like an order, waiting for green eyes to meet his. The moment their eyes locked, his hand dipped, pressing the hot metal against the gory wound. The smell wasn’t what he had expected, and he tried to not wrinkle his nose.
After a second, though it had to feel like an eternity to the other man, Nate withdrew the blade, holding firm to Sams arm and lifting it slightly, so he could look at the wound. With a sympathetic wince, Nate squeezed Sams arm. ”One more. Look at me.” Again, he waited for their eyes to meet, and pressed the knife against Sams skin. Somehow, it seemed worse the second time. Nate didn’t look this time, just set the knife to the side and pressed a damp piece of gauze against Sams hand, the slightest relief he had.
And who could ask it to be sound
or to feel saved again?
or to feel saved again?
But stick around until you hear
that music play again
that music play again
